


The Hollow 6

by idyll



Series: The Hollow [6]
Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Alternate Canon, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, M/M, Prostitution, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-04
Updated: 2005-10-04
Packaged: 2017-10-07 10:26:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idyll/pseuds/idyll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lindsey comes looking for Gunn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hollow 6

Gunn is subdued and withdrawn after his encounter with Lindsey in the alley. There's all this stuff tumbling around in his head and he doesn't want to think about it, but he can't do anything but that. It starts to make a kind of sense he doesn't want to acknowledge or admit, and he tries to stay as busy as possible.

It shows, too, because Wes asks him all sorts of questions that he doesn't answer, and a part of him flinches at the hurt look on Wes' face after the third Q and A session. He wishes this was something he could talk over with Wes but it's not and Gunn doesn't have enough mental energy to make up a problem that Wes can help with just to make him feel better.

There are nights when Gunn is killing time at the Hyperion when he feels Angel's eyes on him, and he wonders what Angel knows. But that's another person Gunn can't talk to about this. Which, really, leaves him with no one he can go to since Gunn just about dies from embarrassment if he so much as considers talking to Cordy.

The need to give in to the dark twisting thing in his gut doesn't let up but Gunn learns how to channel it into work. There are a few times when Cordelia stares at him like he's a space alien or something because Gunn's not usually one for beating things to mushy pulps. But, whatever. It's an outlet, and a constructive one, at that. Just like tearing out everything in his squatter's apartment and finally fixing it up is.

Days pass and before Gunn knows how it happened he realizes it's been a month since he last saw Lindsey. There isn't a single morning that Gunn doesn't wake up with his cock hard and leaking. Not a single night that he doesn't have to force himself to go home instead of to Hollywood and Vine.

This is his life, this restless and edgy and lacking existence, and he sees years and years of it stretched out in front of him. If he hadn't lived his whole live with a mission that taught him discipline he would have sped right to Lindsey's corner the night he had that little epiphany.

It's a Tuesday night when he walks out of the Hyperion after a long ass day that started on Monday afternoon and sees Lindsey leaning against the side of his truck. Gunn comes to a dead stop in the courtyard and stares. Lindsey's wearing that too-small v-necked shirt again, the one that rides up his sides. His jeans are baggy and they hang low on his hips, and Gunn wants to sink teeth and fingers into the strip of skin that's on display between Lindsey's shirt and jeans.

Gunn's light-headed, and the palms of his hands are tingling and throbbing. Oh, hell, he wasn't expecting this. Not in a million years would he have thought Lindsey would show up looking for him. Son of a bitch.

Lindsey hasn't seen him yet and Gunn isn't sure what to do. He _should_ go inside and sneak out the back way. He _wants_ to cross the street and pin Lindsey to the truck, fuck him right up against it for anyone to see.

He's still trying to decide what to do when Lindsey looks up. Gunn sees that wolf-silver of Lindsey's eyes and there isn't enough willpower in the world, in the universe, to keep Gunn from moving towards him. He's taking the first step when he hears Angel's voice, right beside him.

"It's not about sex, Gunn. Sex is a part of it, but not all of it."

Gunn thinks about wanting to grind Lindsey into concrete, about watching Lindsey hold himself in positions that make his muscles strain, about Lindsey on his knees and willingly taking Gunn's cock any way Gunn will give it to him. Gunn thinks about Lindsey, and he thinks about himself, and his throat clicks when he swallows.

"Power," Gunn says, eyes locked on Lindsey, and his voice is cracked and dry. "It's about power."

"Yeah."

It's like the world stops for a second that stretches out forever, and in that time Gunn stops trying to ignore what can't be ignored, and he stops trying to find a simple explanation, and what he's left with is this massive, twisting, fluid _thing_ that can be any one of a million different _things_.

And when Gunn understands that there isn't anything one thing it is or should be or must be, he knows what Lindsey meant about blurring lines. Until that last time, it was about Gunn having power--however temporary--over Lindsey. Power goes both ways after a certain point, after certain actions, though, and in that alley Gunn gave Lindsey power over him.

All these years that Gunn's been alive, walked that knife-edge within himself when it came to fighting, and all the sex he's had with so many different people, and this is the first time that Gunn's seen or felt this in himself. And as soon as he accepts that, he understands one more thing: this is something that Lindsey brings out in him. It's all about Lindsey, about that wiry body and the resentful submission--and, yes, Gunn has words for it now, even if he's not entirely comfortable with them--that's just a cover for how much Lindsey really needs to break. How much Lindsey needs to _be_ broken by hands and cock and force.

Which is just fucked, because Lindsey is a whore, and maybe he gets off on Gunn and what Gunn does to him, but Gunn isn't fool enough to believe that he's anything special or different to Lindsey.

Angel turns and Gunn catches the movement out of the corner of his eye. "Be careful," Angel says over his shoulder as he walks away.

"It's way too late for that," Gunn rasps, and it's so damn true that he doesn't know how he managed to fool himself for a month. He chokes out a laugh and then he makes his way through the courtyard and across the street.

Much as he might want to, Gunn doesn't pin Lindsey to the truck. He stops a few feet away and looks at Lindsey curiously.

"Hey. How's it going?" Lindsey says with an ironic smile, and Gunn wonders if Lindsey even remembers that those are the same words he used to pick Gunn up that first night. And if Lindsey does remember, is there a reason he's using them now?

"What are you doing here?" Gunn asks and even to himself his voice is unnaturally flat. He may not be able to deny this, or avoid it, or keep himself from doing it, but that doesn't mean he has to like getting another taste of something he'll never get to keep, that will never be his.

Lindsey slants his eyes away and shrugs in response, and Gunn takes a deep breath to keep from doing something he shouldn't be doing out in the open, especially within sight of the Hyperion.

They stand there for a while, Lindsey unwilling to offer any explanations for why he's here, and Gunn unsure of what else to ask or say.

"Guess you got a clue," Lindsey says carefully.

It's Gunn's turn to shrug, because he doesn't want to get into all of it and doesn't see a need to put it into words.

Lindsey pushes away from the truck and steps around Gunn. "Yeah, okay. See you around."

Gunn just barely manages to reach out and grab hold of Lindsey's arm and turn him back around. "Why did you come here?" Gunn asks helplessly.

"Nevermind," Lindsey mutters, sarcasm and bitterness making the words sharp and pointed.

"That's not an answer," Gunn snaps in frustration.

And Lindsey shoves a hand through his hair, hisses out curses, and then stares at Gunn, all bare skin and exposed nerves, and Gunn closes his eyes against the unexpected truth of what he sees. When he opens them again Lindsey is stalking down the street, tension in the line of his back, his hands curled into fists like Gunn's own are.

Gunn's steps eat up the distance between them in six long strides, and he snakes an arm around Lindsey's midsection and swings him around and into the side of a sedan. Lindsey's back connects with a muted thump and Gunn plants a hand right against his chest to hold him in place.

Gunn decides to never again leave the talking to Lindsey, because he just makes assumptions and then acts on them.

"Listen up," Gunn says harshly. Lindsey glares up at him, teeth bared, and more stubborn than ten mules. "If I ask a question and you don't answer me, then I have no idea what's going on in that fucked up head of yours. And for the record, you obviously have no idea what's going on in my head, either, so stop thinking you do."

Lindsey's eyes narrow and for a long moment his gaze skitters across Gunn's face, and what he finds surprises him enough that he forgets himself and shows his shock.

Gunn looks right back at him and asks, "No payment?" Lindsey shakes his head. "This ain't a trick?" Gunn pushes, and Lindsey shakes his head again. "All right. One more question. Answer won't change what happens next, but I need to know. Do you just need it, or do you need it from me?"

It's more blurring of the lines and Gunn knows about it this time and doesn't give a shit. There's a damn good chance Lindsey will say he just needs it, and Gunn's prepared for that. He really is. But with the way Lindsey showed up, looking for it, Gunn thinks there's the smallest chance it has to do with him.

"Plenty of places I could've gone to get it," Lindsey says flatly, sounding like he would have preferred any question but that one. Gunn finds it telling, though, that Lindsey is putting up with any questions at all.

Gunn smirks at him, then grabs the back of his neck and shoves him away from the car and towards Gunn's truck. "Let's go."

In the truck Lindsey puts on his seatbelt without Gunn having to tell him, and it makes Gunn snicker just a bit as he pulls out his cell phone and calls Wes. It doesn't take much to convince Wes that Cordy should deal with some business in Chinatown tomorrow instead of Gunn; Cordy and Angel got the easy end of the case that had Wes and Gunn running around for damn near a day and a half.

Gunn takes Lindsey to the motel they never did make it to the last time Lindsey was in the truck, and they only make it this time because Gunn uses every bit of self-control he has not to lose it before they get there. Lindsey doesn't make it easy; he sits with one arm behind his head, and it lifts his shirt up high, and Gunn thinks he's slouching on purpose so that the jeans get pulled lower.

At a red light Gunn gives Lindsey a glare that lets him know just how much he'll be paying for his little tease, and Lindsey arches his back and grins. Gunn almost blows through the light but he understands this now and he won't play into Lindsey's hands like that. He grins as he makes the last turn into the parking lot of the motel.

Gunn parks and then gets a room. The place isn't entirely shabby, but it's not all that respectable, either. It's actually kind of nasty and trashy, taking someone here, and Gunn pulls Lindsey in front of him at the door and grinds his rock hard dick against his ass as he lets them in.

When the door is open Gunn shoves Lindsey forward and watches him stumbles. "Take your clothes off," he says even before he turns the light on. "All of them."

Lindsey turns around, eyes dark with challenge. He opens his mouth, tongue coming out to wet his lips, and says slowly, precisely, "Make. Me."

Lindsey needs to be broken and his challenge is just a reminder of something Gunn's already accepted and processed. Gunn knows that, just like he knows that this is when they should stop and figure out limits. But all it takes is one look at Lindsey's clenched fists and heaving chest for Gunn to know that Lindsey has no rules, no limits. It's up to Gunn to keep this from going too far, and he thinks he has a chance now that he's in possession of that clue.

Gunn moves faster than Lindsey was expecting, apparently, because Gunn's able to tackle him to the floor and almost pin him completely before Lindsey starts to struggle. And Lindsey fights _dirty_\--elbows and knees and nails and the baring of teeth--which gets Gunn so turned on that it's like a rush of adrenaline or something, and his cock doesn't go down even as he deflects a fist and twists an arm behind Lindsey's back.

There's no question about who's going to win; Gunn remembers thinking that first night that Lindsey would be too wild in a fight to win, and it's true. They end up on the bed, because Lindsey makes it to his feet and Gunn has to tackle him _again_. Lindsey's on his back, Gunn on top of him, and Lindsey's hands are pinned behind his own back by his and Gunn's combined weight.

"Shit," Lindsey grits out and throws his head back as he strains to pull his arms free.

Gunn watches him, hands on the mattress on either side of Lindsey's head, and then leans down to drag his tongue up the line of Lindsey's bared neck. He opens his mouth over Lindsey's Adam's Apple, sets his teeth on either side of it, and presses down hard enough to bruise but nowhere near hard enough to break skin.

Lindsey groans and slams his hips up. "Yeah, yeah," he mutters.

Gunn pulls back, sets one hand on Lindsey's chest and reaches for Lindsey's fly with the other. It peels open with just a flick of Gunn's wrist, the material old and worn and being helped along by the massive erection Lindsey has.

"Wild, pretty bitch," Gunn growls when he sees how much Lindsey's cock is leaking, and he can't help but shift his legs, straddle Lindsey's thighs, and grind his denim-covered crotch against Lindsey's exposed dick.

And it's different this time, beyond even the lack of payment. When Lindsey's head falls forward again, there's something...ecstatic shining in his eyes that makes Gunn's breath catch for a moment before he sinks his hands into Lindsey's hair and curls them into fists, tightens them until Lindsey shows him teeth again, until tears are pricked in Lindsey's eyes. And, still, that ecstasy, and Gunn can't hold back anymore.

"Kick your shoes off," Gunn grinds out, and then closes his eyes when Lindsey's thighs brush against his balls as he does what Gunn told him to do.

"Come on," Lindsey taunts him when he's done. He thrusts up, then lays himself out and open under Gunn. "Come on, Gunn."

Gunn yanks his hands out of Lindsey's hair carelessly and Lindsey laughs at the pain, at the lack of regard, and Gunn snarls down at him before crawling up to sit on Lindsey's chest. He reaches back with both hands and awkwardly drags Lindsey's jeans down to his knees, and Lindsey helpfully bends his legs so that Gunn can shove them down to his ankles.

"Have to let me up to get the shirt off," Lindsey says with a wide, challenging grin that disappears when Gunn smirks at him. "I can't afford to lose another shirt."

"Shut up."

Gunn slides back down to Lindsey's thighs. His hands go to the hem of Lindsey's t-shirt, and he jerks the material up his chest, over his face and behind his head. He pulls Lindsey up to settle the material behind Lindsey's back, and then leaves the shirt there, binding his arms.

Lindsey shivers, shudders, shakes, when he realizes what Gunn's done, and then settles into this trembling vibration, like a tuning fork, or something. And Gunn is left with one completely naked body under his, and this time is definitely different, because Gunn's noticing the ribs and the scars and the too-thin frame even in the middle of it, rather than blocking them out until after.

Does that make him worse than he was a month ago? Better? No different at all? Gunn doesn't figure it matters at this point, because it's going to happen no matter what.

He fumbles for Lindsey's jeans, jerks them from the tangle of material at Lindsey's feet, and dumps the condoms and lube from Lindsey's pocket onto the bed.

"What are you goin' to do?" Lindsey asks, and his accent is thicker than ever, his voice is shaking in anticipation, and it's another different thing, him admitting to wanting Gunn's words.

Gunn takes his shirt off and then reaches for his belt, his hands moving slowly and deliberately, catching Lindsey's attention better than all the words in the world.

"Oh fuck, fuck, yeah, come on, goddamn," Lindsey hisses, eyes still caught on the way Gunn's fingers are sliding his belt free from the loops of his jeans. Lindsey's hips buck up almost violently and he arches his back until he's braced on his shoulders, something like agreement, something like acceptance, but everything like begging. Gunn doesn't need to hear Lindsey do it verbally, because he does it with every move, and it's more perfect than hearing "please" fall from Lindsey's mouth.

Gunn wraps the belt around one wrist until there's only a short bit dangling free. His heart is pounding enough to make it feel like it could break his ribs from the inside, and he's shaking just like Lindsey is, and the glitter-shards fly back and forth, stronger and brighter and hotter and sharper than ever, and Gunn is too big and just right for his skin at the same time, and Lindsey is right there with him. _Right there_.

The leather belt lands across Lindsey's chest, one nipple getting caught under it, and Lindsey tenses and hisses and his eyes roll back in his head. Gunn lets the strap stay where it is for a moment as he absorbs the impact up his arm from the strike, the sight of Lindsey taking it in and loving it, and the realization that he himself loves it just as much. When he drags the leather away he has to wrap frantic fingers around the base of his own dick to keep from coming when he sees the red stripe he's left on Lindsey's skin.

Gunn takes a breath, brings himself under control because one of them has to be; there's no way to do this without one of them keeping his head. Then he lays into Lindsey again. And again. And the stripes increase, some darker than others, and they crisscross Lindsey's chest, and curve around the tops of his thighs, and shine on his inner thighs, and when Gunn pulls back for a last strike he can't help himself.

Lindsey screams when the belt lands on his dick--even though Gunn barely put any force at all behind the hit--and he comes, and his dick doesn't go soft at all even though the rest of him becomes boneless and malleable.

And Gunn's almost at the end of his control, so he gets to his feet and somehow manages to wrestle the rest of his clothes off. On the bed, Lindsey looks at him, face sweaty and flushed, arms still trapped behind his back, legs spread, cock hard, and skin covered in marks that he damn well _begged_ Gunn to put on him.

"Gonna take that ass," Gunn spits at him, that dark twisted thing in him even darker and more twisted now that he's covered Lindsey with pain that can be seen.

A long, considering look from Lindsey and then he smiles and pushes himself to his side, then over again until he's on his stomach, and then--that little fucking bastard--he pulls his knees up so that his ass is sticking up, his cheeks spread by the position.

The belt is still in Gunn's hand, around Gunn's hand, and he doesn't think, just raises his arm and brings it down--the hardest hit of all--and Lindsey's scream is prettier than all the others because his face is pressed against the bedding and it's muffled, and Gunn has to tear the belt from his hand because he needs to be in that ass. Needs it just as much as Lindsey does.

His hand is steady when he puts the condom on and slathers the barest amount of lube on his dick. He kneels behind Lindsey and is lining his dick up before he's even full settled on the bed. He slams in before he even has a good hold on one of Lindsey's hips, and if they were facing the head of the bed then Lindsey would have been pushed into the headboard. But they're sideways, so Lindsey is pushed until his face is hanging over the edge.

"Hard," Lindsey gasps. "Harder--fuck--harder than before."

Gunn understands what Lindsey means, knows that the "before" Lindsey is referring to is all of them, and he takes hold of the material bunched between Lindsey's arm and moves it down to Lindsey's wrists, fists it hard, then pulls on it until Lindsey's torso is hovering two inches off of the mattress.

And Gunn does exactly what he wants to do, which is exactly what Lindsey wants him to do, and fucks Lindsey with pounding thrusts that take Lindsey's knees out from under him, and he holds Lindsey up by hip and shirt, and he's relentless, and Lindsey can't thrust back. Lindsey can't do anything but _dangle_ from Gunn's hands and take every inch of Gunn's cock as hard and fast and deep as Gunn can drive it into him.

Gunn lets go of Lindsey's hip, bends forward a little and grabs hold of Lindsey's hair. Lindsey yells and thrashes and curses, and Gunn laughs and hears that he's the one who's ecstatic now, and he swivels his hips so that his next thrust slams him against Lindsey's prostate painfully, and Lindsey freezes and shouts and Gunn doesn't ever want it to end. Except that it's inevitable and before it happens he needs to feel that ass grab at him, try to pull him in deeper and make him stay.

"Dirty little cunt," Gunn hisses and tightens the hand in Lindsey's hair until he's probably pulling out chunks of it. "Look at you. Sucking my cock into your ass like you're starving for it. God, I just want to fuck you raw, until you're begging me to stop, but I'll keep going."

Gunn drops Lindsey, continues fucking him, and reaches out for the belt he tossed onto the bed. He frees Lindsey from the t-shirt and Lindsey's arms fall to his sides. Gunn takes hold of his hip again, doesn't bother wrapping the belt around his hand this time, then slaps the leather across Lindsey's back.

"Son of a bitch," Lindsey screams and gets his hands under him so that he can slam back against Gunn. "Again."

"Ride me, you wild pretty bitch, come on. Fuck yourself. Aw, yeah, like that. Such a good bitch," Gunn hisses and brings the belt down again. Lindsey's head lifts and the tendons on his neck are showing, and he's biting through his lip. "Cock hungry slut," Gunn snarls and hits Lindsey again. "How much can you take, huh? Bet you wouldn't care if I beat you bloody, as long as my cock was in this slutty little ass of yours. Yeah. Bet I could do anything, right?"

"Oh, Christ, I need--bastard--I need--let me--make me--"

And there's a thread of desperation in Lindsey's voice, something as bare and raw as what Gunn saw in Lindsey's eyes earlier, and Gunn throws the belt aside and reaches under Lindsey and wraps his fingers around Lindsey's cock.

"Show me how much you like it," Gunn gasps and Lindsey's cock jerks in his hand, swells. "Show me how much you like being used, being fucked, being hurt, being broken like a bitch." Gunn drags his nails up the length of Lindsey's cock, thrusts against Lindsey's prostate again, and Lindsey's arms give out when he starts to come.

Gunn fucks him through the convulsions, through the aftershocks, fucks him until Lindsey is shifting uncomfortably under him, and it's only when Lindsey tries to pull away that Gunn comes, and he screams and grinds himself in tight little circles in Lindsey's ass until he's too soft to risk it anymore. Then he pulls out, falls back, and tries to blink the black spots out of his vision as he throws the condom somewhere on the floor.

"Holy shit," Lindsey says weakly a few minutes later. "Holy fuckin' shit."

"Yeah," Gunn rasps.

"I can't move."

Gunn lifts his head, which feels like it weighs several hundred pounds, and looks at Lindsey's twitching, sweaty, red-striped form. "You gotta be somewhere anytime soon?"

"No," Lindsey says, and he sounds like he's on the verge of falling asleep.

"Then there ain't a rush to move."

"Yeah," Lindsey mumbles.

Gunn must fall asleep because the next thing he knows he's blinking his eyes open. Lindsey has dragged himself up to the pillows and is trying to pull the covers over himself. Gunn struggles into a sitting position and squints against the light.

"You all right?" he asks gruffly and Lindsey just grunts in return.

Gunn gets to his feet and turns down the blankets on the other side of the bed. "Over here," he says.

Lindsey frowns for a moment before sliding over and letting Gunn drop the blankets on top of him.

Gunn leans down and Lindsey opens eyes that were already half closed again. "I'll drive you back after we get some sleep; don't go wandering out in the middle of the night. Even if you shower you'll smell like sex and pain, and that's like a steak dinner to most nasties. Got it?"

And there's a long moment where Lindsey stares at Gunn with those clear eyes again, and Gunn dips his head to acknowledge that a line somewhere has blurred yet again and that he doesn't give a shit yet again, and Lindsey finally nods tiredly and closes his eyes.

.End


End file.
